New Love (a working title)
by PadfootIsMyHomeDawg
Summary: WRITE YOUR OWN CHAPTER! (see details inside) Eight-year-old Remus Lupin has finally escaped his cage - literally. Running from his kidnapper, he comes to Godric's Hollow for help. With James' help, can he find the happiness in his new family's love, now that his own is gone? NO SLASH
1. AN - IMPORTANT!

**VERY IMPORTANT – MUST READ THIS NOTE!**

**So, I thought of an idea – perhaps it's been used before, perhaps it hasn't. I dunno. Regardless, I figured I'd try it out.**

**Basically, for this fic, I want to have several of YOU guys adding chapters to it. I'll post the first chapter, and then the first person to write the next chapter can PM or email it to me (I'll get to that in a sec) and then ****_I _****can post it on this and give the writer the credit and all that. (Did I word that clearly?)**

**Here are the details and guidelines:**

**Summary for how I see it going: **Remus Lupin was kidnapped when he was five years old by Fenrir Greyback. He was kept and severely abused by him for three years before he was able to escape, and Remus ran away in the middle of winter (it's snowy) to get away and go back to his parents. The first village he comes across is Godric's Hollow, and it happens to be Christmas Eve. He knocks on the most friendly-looking door, which happens to belong to the Potter family. Dorea ushers him in and cares for him (washing wounds, cleaning him up, etc), and after he's fallen asleep she calls the police so that Remus' parents can be contacted. She comes to find out that Remus' parents have died (or are missing – that's up to you), and there's no other family left. She tells the police that she and her family will care for Remus until a permanent home can be found for him. Over the next several weeks, Remus grows more comfortable, while still grieving his parents, and James is the main one to help him through it. I haven't decided how exactly it will end, but it _will _be happy!

**_Requirements: _**

**Length:**

· Any chapter you send must be between 3500 and 6000 words – though if there's a _really _good one that's between 3000 and 3500 words, I'll take it.

· I don't know how long the fic will be (number of chapters), but I_ would_ like it to be fairly longish.

**Warnings: **

· There _cannot _be slash in here. Remus is _eight_ years old – the only thing happening with either him or James or Sirius (should he appear) would be friendship. If there's someone else who's gay that's older, that _may _be okay, but it _cannot _be the focus of the story.

· Remus was abused by Greyback – that includes whipping, beating, burning, breaking bones, stabbing/cutting, and rape. While I don't want this fic to be overly graphic, I think that it _would _be good to have Remus have a few flashbacks – healing process, and all that.

· I don't care about language. There can be as much language as you want or as little, though I may edit it a bit if it starts to be a whole lot more or less than in previous chapters – just so that it stays mostly the same throughout. (But I'd prefer that the children weren't swearing like sailors all the time.)

**Rating: **For now it's rated T because it's not graphic, but depending on you guys, that can change to M - I will give warning at the beginning of the chapter if that happens!

**Plot: **I don't know where this fic will go – that's up to you guys. But I _do _want a happy ending. Also, in case you haven't guessed it, this is MUGGLE AU. That means _no _magic, people – no pureblood stuff, no house elves – but there _can _be a separation based on money and relations to royalty or whatever. Sirius can be included if you'd like, but he _cannot _be a bully or anything like that!

_**My part in this: **_

I will post the first chapter, and then you guys can email or PM the chapter to me. I'm not sure how much PM will allow, so if you have issues, I created an email for this if you're having troubles. If you choose to email it, please send the chapter in Word Document format to padfootismyhomedawg at yahoo . If you'd like, you can add your own A/N to the beginning and I'll include that with mine in the chapter. (I promise I won't use your email for anything else other than possibly emailing you back with a question or something about the chapter, but you can also include your FF username and I can just PM you, if you'd like.) On that note, you must be registered with FF to send me a chapter – I will not accept any guest's chapter – though you can add suggestions in the review box!

If I don't get a chapter sent to me, I'll go ahead and write my own chapter to get things rolling. I will also include suggestions at the end of each chapter for where I personally imagine the next chapter playing out, though of course you are not required to take the suggestions.

I thought about doing a "first come, first serve", but I figured I wouldn't get good-quality work that way. So, the way I'll do it, is I'll post the chapter, and then after a week, I'll go back and see anyone who has sent me a chapter and choose the best among those. I will edit them for spelling and grammar, etc.

**Of course, this is all really an experiment and I'm not so arrogant as to think that people will be shoving to get their chapter in. For all I know, this is a crap idea and anyone still reading this is just laughing themselves silly at the stupidity of this idea. But I figured I would try it out, and we'll see how it goes!**

**And now, on to the first chapter! :)**

**P.S. I suppose it may go without saying, but just a reminder: if you're not a writer, it's okay to just read it, but PLEASE review so that we/I know how we're/I'm doing!**


	2. Chapter 1

**If you haven't read the note in the chapter before this, GO BACK!**

* * *

><p>He shivered in the intense cold of the stone basement, wrapping thin arms around his knobby knees in an attempt to warm up. His faded blue pajama pants were dirty and bloodstained in several spots, and were too short to cover his ankles. He shuddered as a draft blew through from outside, the icy breath across his naked back chilling him further as the blood trickled down from the scratches and cuts. He winced as the shudder opened one of his newly formed scabs and blood dripped to the metal of the cage, making a soft <em>splat <em>as it hit the freezing silver he sat on.

Wide, almost dead eyes peered out from a skeletal face that was framed by tangled and matted brown-blond hair. His gaze darted about in the semi-darkness, judging that it was late evening – the sun was just beginning to set.

_He _would be here soon.

He shuddered again, this time in dread. What the hairy man did to him every day…he was never allowed to truly recover before the next round of horrors. His bum twinged painfully in memory of what the man had done yesterday – though he only did _that _about once a week. He wouldn't have to deal with that this time most likely – perhaps the knives would come into play, then. The man liked the blunt knives that needed more force to break skin, and the blunt ones made messier cuts that scarred.

Perhaps he'd pick the whip today, though. That seemed to be a recent favorite – the whip with the nine thongs attached…he couldn't remember what the man had called it, but it had something to do with cats.

Or maybe…he shivered…maybe he would burn him today. It seemed he was the perfect thing to stub a cigarette butt out on, based on the scars littering his arms and chest.

He pushed all those thoughts aside however, when he found himself beginning to hyperventilate. He squeezed his eyes shut, just beginning to feel his heart rate slow to normal when the door opened, and the hairy man came in.

An hour later, the door closed behind the man, and he heard the deadbolt slide into place. He whimpered as he shifted inside his cage once more, the stripes on his back causing the burning pain. Another gust of wind blew through from the small window on the far wall, and he shivered, trying not to scream at the pain it caused to his abused back.

_I can't deal with this any longer, _he thought, though he had been thinking the same thing every morning for months now. But he'd had a plan for a while now – to get so thin that he could slip through the bars in his cage, and then the bars over the window. It had been somewhat difficult – before, he would have been small enough, if not for him being the healthy weight of a five-year-old, and then because his body was still growing, it became that much more difficult. So while his height went up – he knew, because he couldn't sit fully upright in the cage anymore as he once could – he grew thinner, starving himself so he'd lose weight faster. He was provided what could be called dinner every day, but he only ate when the hunger made him dizzy and sick enough to pass out.

Now though, he thought he could be thin enough. Slipping through the bars of the cage was rather easy – he'd been able to do it for weeks now – but the tricky part was the bars on the window, which were set much closer together.

He climbed on top of the flour and wheat sacks by the window, which had been there for as long as he could remember, and tried lifting himself through. But he didn't have enough strength in his arms to pull him up.

Body shaking and straining and ready to collapse, he moved some of the sacks on top of the others. After a very long time and after several breaks so he wouldn't pass out, he finally climbed on top of the sacks and slid his leg through the bars.

It was easier than he'd thought to slip through – he was apparently much thinner than he'd thought – though he did have a brief moment of panic where he thought his head wouldn't fit through and thought he'd never be able to get out now because he couldn't exactly lose weight from his _head_, now could he? But he managed, silently thanking whoever was listening, and then climbed out of the small pit that left the window exposed.

He shivered much more violently now that he was fully exposed to the real outdoors, but he kept walking, determined to get away from the house as soon as possible. He didn't want to take any chances of getting caught by his captor again – the punishment last time, even though he had no chance at succeeding – had been severe. He still had the scars on his chest.

His feet froze almost instantly in the soft snow, though he hardly noticed as he trudged down the path. He couldn't see anything else all around him – just a white field of snow, and the rundown house he'd been kept in the past three years.

For hours he walked, until he finally saw lights up ahead. A town – or village, whichever. He didn't care – there were people there, and they could help him get back to his family.

As he came upon the village, he saw a sign that read _Godric's Hollow_. He'd never heard of the place before, but lights were on in several houses. A church was up farther ahead, and people were filing in with happy smiles. He looked to the big clock at the entrance of the town, and saw that it was almost midnight. He saw wreaths then, and mistletoe, and finally a Christmas tree in the window of one house, and he realized with a jolt that it was Christmas Eve.

He moved much more purposefully now, though still quite weakly, staying away from the crowd but going instead toward the house he'd seen the Christmas tree in the window of. He'd seen some movement in there, and as he walked to the door he could hear laughter and carols being sung.

Then he lifted his curled fingers to the door, and knocked.

* * *

><p>Dorea Potter was just finishing handing out the eggnog to her family when she heard a somewhat timid knock on the front door. Sighing, she went to answer it, supposing that it was a homeless person wanting warmth on Christmas Eve. She smiled at her son James when she saw the eight-year-old rigging another prank in the hallway for one of his uncles later that night, and he tried to hide it behind his back, pasting a not-so-innocent expression on his face. She just shook her head indulgently, pretending that she hadn't seen it as she went to the front door.<p>

Opening the door, she looked down and saw a boy who was maybe six or seven years old, wearing a single pair of worn pajama pants and peering up at her with wide amber-colored eyes. His hair hung in knots around his thin face, and she could see each and every one of the boy's ribs underneath the cuts and bruises and burns and scars on his torso. He was shivering violently in the cold, teeth chattering and hugging thin arms to his chest.

Before he could get a single word out, she ushered the boy inside, her heart tearing for the broken little boy.

"Whatever happened to you?" she gasped, closing the door and kneeling in front of the scared boy. "Who did this to you?"

"H-he t-t-took m-me," the boy chattered.

That was enough for Dorea. She could figure out the rest on her own, though it pained her that such a small child had to go through this. "Would you like to come upstairs? The living room is rather…noisy." She didn't want to force him into the presence of a large crowd, especially knowing how boisterous her brothers were. She didn't know how he'd react.

The boy nodded wordlessly, so Dorea quickly ushered him into the guest room upstairs. She quickly started the fire in the fireplace, and started a warm bath in the adjoining bathroom.

"I'm going to go and get you some clothes, alright?" Dorea said gently to the wide-eyed little boy. He nodded, teeth still chattering, so she told him to sit by the fire while he waited, and then went down the hall to James' room.

"Mum?" she looked up after leaving her son's room, seeing said son at the top of the stairs with a peculiar expression on his face. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so serious before.

"Who was that?"

"Never you mind," she said to the dark-haired boy. "You just go down and play with your uncles."

"But, that boy," James protested. "He was real' hurt, and he was only wearing trousers. Wasn't he cold?"

"I'm taking care of it right now, Jamie," Dorea told him more gently than before, seeing her son's concern. Pranks aside, he really was a sweet boy. "Will you please tell your father that I'll be up here for a while?"

James nodded and turned to go when Dorea called after him again. "Jamie – don't tell anyone down there except for your father about the boy. I don't think he would want that."

With a last look at his mum, James nodded in understanding and went back down the stairs.

Dorea sighed and went back into the guest bedroom, to find that the boy was curled up in front of the fire, fast asleep. Then she saw the bloody stripes on his back, and her anger at whoever had done this to the child grew in tenfold as she realized he had been whipped. And based on the scars underneath the bloody scabs, this hadn't been the first time.

She set the clothes on her bed and reached out a hand to touch his hand, which seemed to be the least abused part of his body. His eyes snapped open immediately and he sat up straight, causing a hiss of pain to escape his teeth at the jarring movement to his back. His eyes darted around frantically, unfocused, before they finally settled on her. Most of the tenseness left his body and he scrubbed an eye, looking down.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's quite alright," Dorea said gently, not wanting the boy to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. "Can you tell me your name, please?"

"Remus," the boy said softly. "Remus Lupin."

"Well, Remus," Dorea said in a cheer she didn't feel, "I think your bath is ready now – would you like me to help you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said quietly, and so Dorea helped him into the bathroom, turning off the water that by now had filled the tub.

"You just tell me if it's too hot now," Dorea instructed as Remus slipped out of the pajama pants. He was wearing nothing underneath.

Remus stepped into the bathtub and shook his head – it wasn't too hot; it was perfect. The fire had been warm, but it hadn't thawed out his frozen feet and toes. This was wonderful, even though it hurt a little when his feet thawed. He sat down in the tub and almost fell asleep right there, but Dorea pressed gently on his shoulder to keep him upright, making him flinch awake.

"Now I'm going to cut your hair, alright?" she said. "No need to keep it long and tangled, is there?"

Remus shook his head in agreement, though he really didn't care either way. He almost panicked when she brought the scissors close to his head, but at the gentle _snip, snip_ as the hair was cut he relaxed.

_She's not going to hurt you – she's helping you, _he thought as she cut at the hair that had descended to his shoulder blades. She cut it short enough that it wasn't obscenely long, but it was also still a bit shaggy. He didn't know that she was cutting his hair how her son kept his, but he didn't care either way. It was just hair, after all.

"How old are you, Remus?" she asked him conversationally as she snipped at the dirty strands.

"Eight," Remus said quietly.

"My son is your age," she told the child as she finished cutting. "He loves to play pranks on his family – quite the crazy child."

Remus didn't say anything, not that Dorea expected him to. "There – all finished. Now just to washing."

She washed his hair four times before she was satisfied that it was clean, gently pouring water over his head from a cup she kept on her bathroom sink. He didn't seem to care about it, and Dorea continued on with scrubbing the dirt off of his body as gently as she could, trying not to aggravate any wounds. He winced at the obviously still fresh wounds on his back, though not a word of protest was uttered. It was almost disturbing, and she wondered how long he had been in captivity with whatever horrible person had done this to him.

She kept up a constant stream of chatter as she worked, occasionally having to gently shake him to keep him awake. By the time she was done washing him, the water was a murky brown, almost black.

After she had gotten him dried off in the fluffiest Christmas towel she could find, she immediately set to work in tending to his wounds. She noticed how he flinched each time she came close, though neither of them said anything about it as she bandaged him up. It was heartbreaking, how hurt he was, and how much clearer she could see it, now that the dirt was all gone.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a hoarse whisper from the child, but she couldn't hear him and asked him to repeat what he'd said.

"When can – I mean – can I see my parents?" Remus asked hesitantly. She couldn't help but notice how he had corrected himself to phrase what he wanted like a question, a question that was open for refusal on her part.

"Of course, child," she said gently. "I'll make a call in to them in just a moment. Now, would you like for me to bring up some food for you or would you just like to go to bed?"

He just stared at her with his huge eyes, not saying a word, a quick flash of fear appearing as though he didn't want to answer. Which, Dorea supposed, was probably the case.

"Alright," she nodded as though he had spoken. "I'll just bring you up some food now – I'm sure we've got plenty of food from dinner left. Why don't you climb into bed, then?" she quirked a smile at him. "You can have '_dinner_ in bed' rather than 'breakfast in bed'."

The boy didn't smile, but she did see the grateful look in his eyes as she turned to the bed to pull down the covers.

"Alright, into bed now," she said cheerily, and he obeyed, climbing in to rest between soft sheets and a heavy comforter. Dorea pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, tucking him in, and she couldn't resist bending down to kiss his forehead. When she pulled back, she saw his widened eyes, though he seemed to be more shocked than frightened.

"I'll be back in just a moment with that food," she told him with a gentle smile, and then turned and left the room.

When she got to the stairs, however, she found that her son was sitting at the top, an untouched plate of food in his lap and a Christmas mug beside him. He stood up when he saw her, holding the plate and the mug.

"I know you said to go back downstairs, but I figured the kid would be really hungry so I told anyone who asked that I was just getting seconds for _me _and that's believable 'cause I 'most _always _get seconds but I didn't know what would happen if I just barged in there so I figured I'd wait here 'cause you'd probably come to get food for him later but he wasn't going to want to wait if he was really hungry so – "

"Jamie," Dorea gently cut him off, suddenly overwhelmed by her son's innate kindness. "You're a very sweet boy, and I'm sure Remus will appreciate the gesture."

"He's gonna be okay though, right?" James asked her in a suddenly timid voice.

"Of course he is," Dorea said briskly. "I'll be making a call to the police as soon as he's asleep – they'll find his parents, and then he'll go home with them and they can take care of their son from there. Everything will be alright."

James nodded, assured, and then handed her the plate of food and the mug. She had to stop a smile at what she saw – James had put on there everything _he _liked. There were four slices of ham, a couple of pieces of turkey, a large pile of mashed potatoes with butter melted on top, a scoop of stuffing, a piece of plum pudding, a mince pie, and a serving of roast potatoes. In the mug was some of her hot apple cider.

"I didn't know what he'd like best, so I just got a lot of what _I _liked," he explained. "But the eggnog would prob'ly make him sick if he hasn't eaten for a long time, so I thought the apple cider might help warm him up."

"Thank you very much, Jamie," she smiled at him. "You've been a very big help. I'll be downstairs in a bit – you run along, now."

James obeyed, and Dorea went back to the bedroom, smiling as she walked in.

"My son has got you the best of everything," she told the boy in bed, but then fell silent when she saw that he was fast asleep, snoring softly. Fighting tears at the thought of what the eight-year-old must've gone through, she walked silently over to the bedside table and set the plate and mug on it for when the boy woke up. She watched the boy sleeping for several moments before she turned and left the room. It was time to call the police.

* * *

><p><strong>Suggestions for next chapter:<strong>

· -**Dorea calls the police and they say to keep Remus there and calm till morning while they search for Remus' parents**

· -**They have Christmas with Remus – possible hesitancy/flashback on his part**

· - **They find out that Remus' parents are dead or missing and there's no more of his family to care for him, upset there**

· -**Work out how they're going to care for Remus until a permanent home can be found**

· -**Friendship/bonding between Remus and James**


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't know if it's because of the storyline or the idea of multiple authors itself, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of interest. Of course, perhaps I am speaking too soon and it's just because it's the first chapter and it would definitely be hard to start off with something where there is no character development and it is totally different than the usual Harry Potter fanfictions. In any case, no one came forward with chapter 2 so I wrote it myself. Sorry that it's been so long (especially when I said it would usually be one week) but about halfway through this chapter I got a serious case of writers block, and then after I got through that I had to find the motivation to actually write it all out...

Oh, well… Perhaps someone will bring chapter 3 to me. We'll see after this chapter…;)

RLRLRLRLRLRLRLRL

Dorea bit the inside of her lip as she waited for the other end of the line to be picked up. She hoped that someone was still at the police station – she knew that the town was fairly small, so it would be a bit odd if someone was actually there on Christmas Eve at almost ten-thirty at night.

The phone clicked, and then a voice filled her ear. – "Godric's Hollow Police."

"Hey, I didn't know if anyone would still be down there," Dorea said, enormously relieved when she recognized the voice of her friend Theresa Longmire.

"Yeah, me and the guard are the only ones still here – everyone else left," Theresa said, sounding much less official than she had before, now that she knew who she was talking to. "What's wrong?"

"There's a boy here," Dorea explained worriedly. "He showed up at my front door about an hour and a half ago wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, and said he'd been taken. I didn't ask him beyond that, but he's sleeping in the guest room now."

"Do you know his name?" Theresa asked.

"Lupin – Remus Lupin," Dorea answered. She had to swallow over the tightness in her throat. "He's been severely abused. He has whip marks, burns, bruises, scars, scabs…I don't know how long he was kept by this man, but it has to have been a while, based on the age of the scars. He really wants to see his family again."

"According to these files, it looks like he was taken three and a half years ago from his home in Devon. I'll have to look for his parents' contact information, and of course a professional doctor will have to see him. I just don't know how much we're going to get done, because of the holiday season, but I'll give you a call if and when we find anything."

"Thanks, Theresa," Dorea said with a sigh. "Just…try, please? He's very…lost, right now. He needs family."

"I understand, Dorea, and I'll put my best foot forward."

Dorea hung up, and then leaned her forehead on the wall in front of her, breathing out a sigh. She wanted to help Remus, she really did, but somehow she felt like it wasn't going to be sunshine and daisies for any of them for a long time.

RLRLRLRLRLRLRLRL

Remus' eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding furiously in his little chest. His eyes darted about the room, not recognizing it in the dim lighting, but noticing that he was in fact in a bed. Memories from the night before came rushing back into his head, and his heart rate slowed down as he realized that he was safe. The hairy man wasn't there, and he wouldn't be.

He experimentally rolled his shoulders and twisted his back slightly. There was a slight pain, but definitely not the agony he was always in back in that basement. And he was warm.

From his spot in bed, he peered around the room – beige wallpaper, chocolate-colored curtains…he supposed this must be the guest bedroom. It was too impersonal to be someone's bedroom – there were no family pictures, and the top of the dresser was cleared. Everything was so…pristine. He liked it, though. The cleanliness, that is. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been somewhere that was clean, but he would've appreciated some pictures, even if they weren't of his own family. He wasn't complaining, though – he was just glad that the woman had allowed him inside and helped him, and let him stay in the warm bedroom. He saw by the clock on the wall that it was just before five in the morning. He'd only slept a few hours, then, but he didn't feel all that tired – his brain was too busy.

He climbed out of the bed with the intention of going to the bathroom, wincing a bit when he moved too fast and his chest flared in pain. Holding a hand to his chest and panting a bit, he paused while he waited for the pain to die down.

Once he felt suitably able to move again, he straightened up, and made his way a trifle unsteadily to the door, which was cracked open just enough to let in a bit of light from the hallway. He remembered that the bathroom was right next door to the bedroom, and so he didn't think too much about it as he opened the bathroom door.

After relieving himself – in a real toilet! – he looked at himself in the mirror above the sink.

He was shocked at what he saw. He hadn't seen his reflection in years – since he was five, in fact, and so he supposed he should've expected a change in his facial features. Kids grew up, didn't they? But for some reason, the fact had slipped his mind and he had just assumed that he still looked like his five-year-old self, if a bit thinner and taller.

He peered more closely at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face and the cheekbones sticking out almost obscenely. His hair was shorter than his mum had ever cut it, but at least it was clean and neat.

His eyes trailed up to take in his injuries – he had a dark bruise running from his temple to his forehead, and it was definitely the thing that stuck out the most. Besides that, the marks on his face were minimal – a thin white scar under his left eye, a scab on his nose, a scrape on his chin…his injuries were mainly on the rest of his body.

He didn't want to see those now, though – even just seeing his face was enough for him, and he could feel his heart racing anxiously in his chest.

He turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom, going back to the bedroom he'd slept in. It was after he closed the door partway behind him that he noticed the plate of food on the bedside table. His mouth watered suddenly at the sight of it, even while his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch at the thought of what too much of the rich foods could do to it. He decided to eat just the turkey and potatoes, and the glass of cider.

After he had finished his ravenous eating, however, he found that it was just as well that he didn't feel well enough to eat the richer foods, as he was completely stuffed. He lied back down on the bed and closed his eyes for a moment, intending to wait until he didn't feel quite so bloated before getting up.

Next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to the realization that someone else was in the room – being silent, apparently watching him.

He sat up straight, startled, but when he turned to see who it was, he saw that it was a boy, perhaps seven or eight years old. A moment later, he realized that this must be the son that the woman – what was her name again? – was talking about the night before. That meant he was eight.

The boy was sitting in the chair by the door, fidgeting, but when he saw that Remus was awake, he jumped to his feet with a grin.

"Thank goodness!" he exclaimed. "Mum told me I couldn't wake you, so I thought I'd wait till you woke up yourself, but I didn't even have to sit here for a whole minute!"

Remus said nothing, only blinking and staring at the other boy whom he didn't even know **the** name of.

As though reading his thoughts, the bespectacled boy stepped closer and climbed onto the foot of the bed, saying, "My name's James, by the way. My parents call me Jamie, but don't let it fool ya. I'm not a kid anymore – I prefer James!"

"Remus," Remus answered quietly.

James nodded, already knowing that. "Odd name, yeah? I've never heard of anyone called Remus before – except that whole 'founders of Rome' myth with Remus and his brother – can't remember his name. You know the one? My teacher was just talking about it before Christmas break, so I know the story.

"Anyway, I thought I should tell you – it's Christmas!" he beamed at Remus, clearly expecting an enthusiastic response. But all Remus did was give him a blank stare.

"You do know what Christmas is, right?" James asked, suddenly uncertain at Remus' lack of response. "You're not part of some weird family that doesn't celebrate it, are you?"

"I know what it is," Remus replied emotionlessly.

The grin was back on James' face. "Good! Well, it's already like, seven o' clock, so we can open presents now! And Santa Claus brought you some, too!*

Finally an emotion appeared on Remus' face – confusion and a bit of apprehension. "What?"

James eagerly nodded. "Yup! They've got your name on 'em and everything! Come on!" He leaned forward and grabbed Remus' hand, pulling him out of bed. Remus was so stunned at the turn of events that he didn't even think to resist, instead following behind James at the other boy's insistent, though still gentle tugging.

Dorea frowned at her son when James and Remus came into the kitchen, where she was in the beginning stages of making breakfast.

"Jamie, I told you to let him sleep," she scolded.

James put up his hands in surrender, releasing his grip on Remus as he did so. "I did!" he protested his innocence. "He woke up on his own!" Remus didn't correct him that he'd actually woken up because James was in the room. "I told him to come downstairs with me – can we open presents now?"

Dorea exchanged a quick glance with her husband, who sat at the kitchen table, before looking back at James. "Later, Jamie," she told him. "I think Remus would be very bored, just watching us open our presents." She thought that it would be very awkward and saddening if Remus saw James getting several presents from them and extended family without getting any of his own. She mentally berated herself for not thinking to get Remus some sort of present the night before, but then corrected her mentality when she remembered that all of the stores would've been closed. It didn't make her feel any better or less guilty, though.

"But Remus doesn't want to wait another minute!" James exclaimed. He whirled to face Remus. "Can't you?"

Remus looked about as confused as she herself felt at James' words. James had to know that Remus had no presents under their tree. Perhaps James had expected his parents to think of getting Remus a few presents and assumed that they would be there. The pain in her heart went deeper.

But James was already pulling Remus through the door into the family room, and she practically ran to catch up with them. Perhaps Charlus had gotten something and told James about it…

A few seconds later, she watched in confusion as, at James' insistence, Remus opened the first present, and a new copy of Peter Pan was revealed. That couldn't have been bought the night before; she knew for a fact that the only bookstore in the village had been closed for Christmas Eve and Christmas day. There was no way that could've been bought for Remus.

Remus didn't seem to be thinking about how it could've happened, though – he was staring reverently at the book, eyes shiny with suppressed tears. He appeared deeply touched by the present, and Dorea's heart ached at the reminder that the boy probably hadn't celebrated Christmas or a birthday or anything in whatever hellhole he'd been kept in.

James hadn't even opened a present yet before he was pushing another one at Remus, saying, "This one's got your name on it, too."

Dorea watched as the present was unwrapped and revealed to be a ten-pack of socks. Remus was no less touched by this gift than he had been the book, and he carefully set the socks down on top of his new book, which were both in his lap.

Didn't I buy those socks for Jamie last month? Dorea wondered. A suspicion entering her mind, she discreetly picked up one of the packages and checked the label. She had to fight tears at what she saw.

The sticker label was clearly covering another one, a bit sloppily as though the person applying it had been rushed. In handwriting she clearly recognized were the painstakingly written words, To Remus, From Santa.

She looked over at James, and saw the happiness and eagerness in his whole expression as he gazed upon his new friend opening a plastic dinosaur that she remembered getting specifically for James. She didn't even bother wondering how James had been able to get into the living room and rewrite several of the labels to say they were for Remus without her or Charlus knowing. Looking at the various presents piled under the tree, she could see that James hadn't even stopped with a few presents being made for Remus – what looked to be an entire half of James' presents had been replaced to say that they were for Remus.

She looked at her husband, seeing that he had made the same connection, and they both gazed fondly at the kind-hearted boy they were proud to call their son.

RLRLRLRLRLRLRLRL

"So do you have any other friends, Remus?" James asked curiously later that day as he munched on a Christmas cookie that his mum had made the day before.

Remus wordlessly shook his head in the negative, nibbling at the cookie James had insisted he eat, even though he didn't particularly want it.

"Not even one?" James practically demanded in a shocked voice.

"Well, see, for most people, being locked away in a basement for three years kind of limits one's options." Remus snapped sarcastically.

James blinked, mouth shaped in an 'O' of surprise as he stared at the boy. Surprise that Remus wasn't so passive; surprise at him having said so much all at once. Over the entire day, he'd had to drag even one-word answers out of the thin boy. When Remus said that, he lost some of the fear that had been shrouding him like a cloud since he'd arrived, and James got a small glimpse of who the boy really was.

But then Remus seemed to shrink in on himself, unsure and having just realized how he'd sounded and what he'd said. He opened his mouth, looking ready to apologize.

Well, that just wouldn't do. Remus had to know that he was alright being himself - James actually found himself liking the boy he was and could be.

He quickly spoke before Remus could get a word in, acting as though the fault was his own. "Right - yeah. Sorry, I didn't think about that. What about siblings? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Remus looked a little uneasy still about what he'd said though also relieved that it didn't seem to be a big deal. Answering, he said, "I don't think so. I didn't when last I saw my parents, but they could've had someone while I was...gone." They both pretended he hadn't hesitated and stumbled at the last part.

"I've always wanted a brother," James said conversationally. "But my mum had ovarian cancer a little after having me and can't have kids anymore. But, wouldn't that be so cool? I'd always have someone to do stuff with, and I'd always have someone on my side with stuff, ya know?"

Remus nodded, though it was more a nod of acknowledgement than agreement. James didn't seem to notice.

"Hey, do you know how to play the piano?" He said rather suddenly.

"A little," Remus allowed. "I dunno if I'd remember still now, though."

"Well, come on I'll show you!" Him said James said, grabbing Remus' arm and tugging him along into the living room, where an upright piano sat in the corner.

"I only know how to play a couple of things," James said, seating himself on the bench and opening the cover over the ivory keys. Remus simply nodded and watched as James prepared himself to play.

A moment later, Remus had to suppress a cringe when the first notes were plunked out. After a couple of mistakes though, James seemed to get the hang of it and was soon playing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the group of three ebony keys.

When he was finished, he turned back to Remus with a sheepishly embarrassed sort of expression, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck.

"As you can see, I'm not exactly a piano prodigy," he said self deprecatingly. "I didn't exactly want to play piano in the beginning, anyway. My mum started making me take lessons about a year ago, but I suppose it's fun…"

Remus shrugged and abruptly asked, "Do you know when… I mean… Your mom said she would call the police so that they could contact my parents. Do you know when my parents are supposed to come?"

James shook his head, his mood turning serious when he remembered that Remus wasn't exactly there by choice. He was just waiting for his own family. After all, he hadn't seen them for years.

"She called earlier, but she hasn't told me anything. I think once she finds out any news she'll tell you, of all people."

Remus nodded, fiddling with his hands. James bit his lip, suddenly realizing that his mundane talk of piano skills and friends and siblings was probably just making his new friend wish for familiarity, such as his own family.

"I'm sorry," James blurted. "I'm probably making you really bored. I don't really know what to say or do around you because you don't talk a whole lot. I don't really know anything about you."

"We don't have to talk you know," Remus said, his voice tinted with confusion. "Do you want to read a book? I like reading…The Hairy Man sometimes left an encyclopedia open in front of my cage so that I could read and I wouldn't forget how."

The air was suddenly thick with tension at what Remus had said. He mentally berated himself - how could he have just let at slip out? He hadn't even thought about it. He hadn't told anyone that he had been kept in a cage. As far as Mrs. Potter knew, he had been whipped, burned, and beaten. He wasn't 100% sure if she knew about the sexual side of it, and while he wouldn't put it past her, there was no way she could know he had been kept in a cage for three long years. While it wasn't exactly something he was trying to keep a secret, he didn't feel that this family should be burdened with his load. After all, once the police had contacted his family, it was extremely unlikely that he would even see the Potters again. He wouldn't want them to be concerned with anything after he'd left.

James, on the other hand, was only concerned about Remus. He hadn't known about the cage, of course, but it was clearly something that Remus hadn't wanted to be open about. He was horrified that Remus had apparently been kept in a cage, and he was only concerned with how Remus felt, and if he would be okay. After Remus had snapped earlier, he had begun to suspect that Remus wasn't normally so quiet. And he knew from personal experience that when one was quiet, it typically meant they were upset or sad. And Remus certainly had reason to be! And he didn't want Remus to be sad...perhaps Remus would even participate in pranks with him! That is, if he stayed long enough…but he was determined that even after Remus had gone back to his family, and even – no, especially – after Remus had healed and gone back to the doubtless happy boy he was before, he wanted to see him. He wanted to be friends with Remus.

Before he could say anything – be it something to comfort Remus or a change of subject – the doorbell rang, and Mrs. Potter called from upstairs for someone to answer it. As though by a previously unspoken agreement, James and Remus both went to the front room to open the front door.

James was the one to open the door, while Remus stood off to the side, on the other side of the door and out of sight.

James opened the door to see two police officers in uniform – one a man, and one a woman. The man appeared to be older than the woman by a significant amount – perhaps 20 years. He had a thick white mustache and was going bald on top. However, his clear blue eyes were kind as he gazed on the eight-year-old who had answered the door. The woman, on the other hand, looked like she was just out of school. Her blonde hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, and her brown eyes were just as kind as her partner's.

"Hi, there," the man said to James. "Are your mum and dad home?"

James nodded. "Just a minute," he said, and turned and called up the stairs, "Mum! The police are here!"

Mrs. Potter had already been coming down the stairs, and when she saw that there were indeed police officers at her door, she turned to James and said, "Why don't you and Remus go to your room? I'm sure you would love to play with your Christmas presents now."

"Actually, could Remus stay here for a moment?" The man said.

"Of course, officer," Mrs. Potter said, ushering them inside and closing the door behind them. "What's this about? I assume you have found his parents?"

The two officers shared a glance that did not go unnoticed by Dorea. After they had sat down – all five of them, including James – the woman said, "Actually, that's what we're here about."

"Are they alright?" Remus asked anxiously. "I can still see them, right? When do you think I could see them?"

"We were, in fact, able to find their records," the man said rather slowly for the young boys' tastes. "However, it appears that Lyall Lupin took his own life fourteen months ago."

"Daddy," Remus whispered, understanding perfectly what the officer meant. They all gave him a moment to himself, remaining quiet until Remus looked back up at the officers and asked a pleading, broken voice, "And my mum? Where is she? Is she okay? Can I see her?"

The man looked at the eight-year-old sadly, not wanting to say anything. But he knew that it had to be done. The woman officer knew it, too, and James and Mrs. Potter didn't miss her wet eyes as she determinedly kept her gaze on the little boy before her.

"Please," Remus whispered, "Please tell me she's okay."

The woman swallowed and said before the man could open his mouth, "She was in a car accident two years ago. In the emergency room she was given the choice for the doctors to either try and save her or the baby inside her. She chose the baby. Unfortunately, the baby died as well as the mother."

"So," Remus said in a stronger voice than what would be expected of an eight-year-old in such a situation, "Not only have I lost both of my parents, but I also lost a sibling that I didn't even know that I had?" It wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry," The woman whispered, heart tearing for the child who had already been through so much.

"I think I… I need some time alone," Remus muttered, getting to his feet.

"If you shut the door to my room, you won't be able to hear hardly anything out here," James offered. Remus nodded, and without another word, darted out of the room, up the stairs, and into James' bedroom, closing the door behind him.

RLRLRLRLRLRLRLRL

A/N: Wow… Super sad. This was definitely a hard chapter to right, not only because of the writer's block about halfway through it, but also because of the seriousness and pain of it. I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway – my favorite part was definitely opening presents part.

Anyway, here are some suggestions for what I'm thinking for Chapter 3:

-More James/Remus bonding

-The Potters' decision to foster Remus

-Something about Remus giving his statement to the police

-Something about Greyback being arrested

-Remus' nightmare(s)

-ANGST

(not necessarily in that order)

*I'm not sure what England recognizes as Santa Claus, so I just put what Americans use…is it Father Christmas or St. Nicholas over there?


End file.
